


Perceptions

by engagemythrusters



Series: Visions [3]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe, Developing Relationship, Episode: s02e03 To the Last Man, Friendship, M/M, Psychic Abilities, Telekinesis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:41:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26821561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/engagemythrusters/pseuds/engagemythrusters
Summary: "A coffee had appeared by her side almost magically a few hours ago, but she couldn't remember actually seeing Ianto. Part of that was due to her almost tunnel vision-like concentration, but if Ianto wanted to make himself known through that, he would."Toshiko Sato and her thoughts on one mysterious Ianto Jones.
Relationships: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Series: Visions [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1915483
Comments: 7
Kudos: 129





	Perceptions

On Monday, the twenty third of June, Toshiko came into work with many mixed feelings. She was grateful for the work and the chance to distract herself, but she was also still hung up on her feelings and pain. Barely two days had gone since Tommy had returned to 1918. She’d spent the time at home, taking a small break. She didn’t know if it had helped or not, but she supposed she’d figure that out today.

Jack, Owen, and Gwen were out most of the morning, negotiating with some nosy Naledians. She had no desire to join them, so she stayed behind, working steadily away on the Rift predictor. She had some updates she’d like to add on, and it was a perfect way to keep herself distracted and busy.

Sometimes, it was easy to forget the team had five people. Their fifth member had quite the way to keep himself hidden when he wanted to be. Tosh didn’t know exactly why he did it; she had her guesses, and all of them equally likely, but none of them stuck out as solidly correct. And he never said a word about it himself, so there was no way to tell.

Ianto’s sneaking and hiding had gone down since Jack had left, partly out of sheer necessity (they couldn’t have functioned on a _three_ -person team) and partly because… well, she at least hoped it was because he had come out of his shell a little. Especially now that Jack had returned.

But Ianto still had the occasional few days—or, sometimes, a whole week—where he hid in the Archives, when the team only saw him for coffees and meals.

Today must be one of those days, because Tosh looked up at exactly eleven o’clock, realising she hadn’t seen Ianto even once. A coffee had appeared by her side almost magically a few hours ago, but she couldn't remember actually seeing Ianto. Part of that was due to her almost tunnel vision-like concentration, but if Ianto wanted to make himself known through that, he would. Since he hadn’t, she could rightfully suspect Ianto was having a reclusive day.

She didn’t think she wanted to be alone. She spent the entire day alone yesterday, and she now started to feel like it hadn’t helped.

“Ianto?” she called.

It was more likely that Ianto was down in the Archives, but she could still try before she went off searching for him. Wouldn’t do to go and scour the whole Archives just to find he was upstairs sweeping out the greenhouse.

“Tosh?”

“Oh,” she said to herself, shocked. She really had not expected him to be up here.

“What is it?” Ianto asked.

“Are you in Jack’s office?”

“Yep.”

She checked her monitors, making sure everything was in order and was safe to leave unattended, and then got up and went over to Jack’s office.

Ianto sat at Jack’s desk, typing away at Jack’s computer. Well. “Typing.” The term fit very loosely with what Ianto was doing. Toshiko watched, cringing internally, as Ianto poked each key with his index fingers. The unsteady _tak_ … _tak_ … _tak tak_ … _tak_ … of his typing was not at all pleasant to listen to.

Someday, Tosh would give him a proper typing lesson. She’d been meaning to for a while, but every time she got around to it, something big popped up. Like, world-ending type of big.

“What are you doing?” she asked him.

He pecked at a few more keys, then glanced up at her.

“Finishing off a file for the secure Archives,” Ianto said. “They’re only accessible through this computer, so…”

He shrugged, trailing off.

“Ah,” she said.

“Is there something you needed?” he asked.

“Oh, no.” She hated that he assumed she needed something. Well, she did, but it wasn’t… like _that_. “Just figured I should take a break from work.”

Ianto gave a slight, knowing smile. “I was going to make more coffee when I’d finished. Would you like a cup?”

“That’d be lovely, thank you,” she said.

He turned away then, back to the computer and his vexing finger-poke typing. She quietly fled the room; she wanted to stay, really, but didn’t want to seem clingy. She could deal with ten more minutes of staring at unforthcoming Rift predictions.

Ten minutes turned into thirty without her realising it. Her tendency to get sucked into work could be annoying sometimes. She didn’t know her coffee was sitting in front of her until Ianto tapped her shoulder and cleared his throat.

“Oh,” she said, looking between her screens, Ianto, and the mug. “Oh!”

“Still looking for a break, or…”

“Yes, sorry,” she said. “I’m done now.”

She saved her work, grabbed her mug, and turned her desk chair, facing Ianto as he sat down on the sofa with his own cup of coffee in hand.

Tosh liked hanging out with Ianto. Not only was he one of her dearest friends, he was also just… _interesting_. The conversations they would have often turned out, in her opinion, wild. Because whenever Ianto had a question about something, she would answer it, and then he would jump to a follow-up question so remotely related that Tosh could barely fathom how they got there. Had his abilities filled in the gaps between those points A and Z? Or just enough crucial points, like G and M and P and U, that Ianto could logically conclude the rest? She wanted to ask him so badly sometimes, but she suspected the answer would be, as it always was, “I don’t know.” Unfortunate, really. She’d like to know. Though he probably did, too, and even more so than she did, so… she could live with not knowing if he could.

“Did you finish your files?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yep. I’ll move back down to the regular Archives later.”

“Jack and the rest still out?”

“Gwen sent a message,” he said. “It’ll be a while.”

“Negotiations going badly?”

“A group of stubborn aliens dead set on harvesting our trees versus Jack, equally stubborn and, as of this morning, rather irritable? I’d say so, yes.”

She laughed, then took a sip of her coffee.

“They should be back before dinner, though,” he said.

“What do you suppose we’ll be having?” she wondered, not really sure where she wanted this conversation to go.

“Owen’s been craving kebabs for a week, so…” He shrugged.

“Ah.” She wasn’t overly fond of kebabs.

“I could also order a pizza while I’m at it,” he added, glancing pointedly at her.

Sometimes, she couldn’t tell if Ianto was relying on his powers, was just intuitive, or really knew her that well. In any case, she was grateful now.

“How are you?” he asked abruptly.

She blinked. She really hadn’t expected anyone to ask that. Well, maybe Gwen in passing, but…

“I’m… fine.”

He didn’t say anything, but the look on his face was one of quiet disbelief.

“I mean, I’m not, but… I’ll get over it,” she said. “I always do.”

She hated that there was an “always” in this situation. How many times was Torchwood going to get involved in (and then inevitably fuck over) her love-life? She supposed that meant something could be said about her ties to this job—it consumed everything. Every single aspect of her life. She wasn’t just a _part_ of Torchwood; she _was_ Torchwood. Torchwood was her.

“I’m sorry,” Ianto said, solemn.

She gave a wry smile. “Thank you.”

“He was a good man,” Ianto said.

“You know what?” she said. “He really was.”

A step up from her previous entanglements, in a way. Mary was a manipulative, murdering alien. Owen was… Owen. Though, granted, he was a lot better than Mary and had certainly become a lot more agreeable since sorting himself out a bit after Jack left, but still… he didn’t love her back, did he?

But Tommy had thought the world of her. He had promised to be her brave, handsome hero.

“I miss him,” she found herself saying aloud. “I only got to know him for, what… seven days, total? But it was like I’d known him my whole life. Like he fit right in.”

“I suppose love is weird like that,” Ianto mused.

“I suppose…”

She took a sip of her coffee, retreating to her thoughts.

Love.

She hadn’t truly considered that until now.

What was love, anyway? Chemicals tricking the brain, that was all. Dopamine, serotonin, norepinephrine, oxytocin, vasopressin… all conspiring together to say _this person matters, this person means the world_.

“It isn’t a bad thing, though,” Ianto said.

Tosh wondered if Ianto could _actually_ read minds.

“No, I guess not,” she sighed.

She drank her coffee again, then eyed Ianto.

“You would know, wouldn’t you?” she said softly.

Ianto looked down at his mug. “I don’t know what you mean.”

She said nothing more, but she knew.

Watching the pair of them, Jack and Ianto, was interesting, when one knew where to look for it. The looks across the conference rooms, the hidden smiles when one made an innuendo they thought nobody else would catch, the helping put on that greatcoat. Small touches, rolled eyes, masked laughs. Add a dip, a glide, and a twirl, and it was nothing short of dancing: intricate, intimate, and exciting.

She’d envy them, if she was any less of a decent person.

“Gwen’s lucky,” she said instead. “She gets to have her normal life outside of this. Her Rhys.”

“Who knows how long that will last,” Ianto said. “‘Normal,’ I mean. And what do we know what to do with ‘normal,’ anyway?”

And he did have a point. Wasn’t that what she was just thinking to herself before? She and Torchwood were one, now.

“I suppose you’re right,” she murmured.

She studied him carefully, watching him drink his coffee.

“Do you ever wonder what your life would have been like, if you hadn’t been—" She cut off, mortified, because she hadn’t actually thought that trough before she’d started to ask.

The mug slowly dropped from his lips. He didn’t look at her, his fingers running over the handle of his mug as he stared down at it.

“Sometimes.” His tone was calm but detached. “But I can’t really begin to speculate. I don’t know enough about life to. Maybe if I’d tried to get a life outside Torchwood, I would, but…”

He shrugged.

Perhaps it was because they had already delved into Toshiko’s Touchy Subjects, or perhaps because she was feeling a tad more empathetic than usual, she said, “I get how you feel.”

Ianto glanced up at her then. His eyes were unguarded, and Toshiko considered momentarily to herself how _young_ he could appear sometimes. He was young, that was true, but at times… the insight could parallel innocence, and the naïveté looked childish.

“You do, don’t you,” he murmured.

And she wasn’t surprised that he knew already.

“Four months isn’t a _lot_ ,” she said, “but…”

“Still enough to forget what freedom feels like,” Ianto finished for her.

“Yeah.”

They sat in silence for a moment, dwelling on closed, lonely spaces. A sinking feeling crawled around Tosh’s chest, closing up her throat, just like it did every time she thought too hard about UNIT.

“He saved you, didn’t he?”

Ianto’s question was so soft-spoken that she nearly missed it.

“He saved all of us,” she hedged.

Ianto nodded slowly, whispering almost to himself, “He always does.”

She observed as his eyes drifted out of focus. Usually, when they did that, Ianto was either taking away the universe’s information, or he was sucked unpleasantly (like just before) into his past. But there was something else in his eyes this time that led her to believe neither of those were the case. A subtle, quiet warmth.

Dancing, she figured again. Even apart, the two of them danced.

From her earpiece, a tinny voice called Tosh’s name, startling her a little.

“Speak of the devil,” she said, before tapping her ear. “Jack?”

“I need you to remotely start a spaceship,” he said. “Think you can do that?”

“I can sure _try_ ,” she replied.

“That’s the spirit,” Jack said jovially, then signed off.

Toshiko didn’t move for a moment, finishing off the few seconds of quietness with Ianto. Then he blinked at her expectantly.

“Back to work,” she said.

Ianto nodded.

“Thank you for the coffee,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” he said softly.

He stood and straightened his waistcoat, smiled kindly down at her, and left, taking his coffee mug down with him towards the Archives. She watched him go for a bit, thinking many thoughts to herself. When he stopped and turned back just before he went exited the main Hub, she raised her eyebrows.

“Tosh?” he called back.

“Yes?”

“Bond-athon tonight? I’ve got wine.”

A grin spread on her face.

“Absolutely,” she said.

He nodded once, a smile ghosting his lips, then turned away and disappeared.

She stared at where he had just been for a moment. Would it be bad if she called him back to stay up here with her while she worked? Well, probably.

Chiding herself lightly, she shook her head and settled in at her monitors.

Time to work now.

**Author's Note:**

> I very much adore both Tosh and Ianto, and I do wish they'd gotten more interaction _in canon_. Have to do everything myself, don't I?  
> The next fic in this series should be up in another week!  
> Thank you for reading, and have a lovely day!


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